Cream This Thick Ch. 05 - The Farm

"Oh really?" He took another sip as he arched an eyebrow. He cocked his head as he was trying to think of something. "I guess that fits the timeline."

"Timeline?"

"Never mind," he said with a shake of his head. "You have a sample?"

Michelle lifted the plastic bag. Again, the glass bottles clinked inside. Once more, he cocked his head, but this time beckoning her inside before he took another sip. "Come on. We don't need to do this on the porch." He left the door open and went deeper into his house. Michelle noticed he was wearing slippers and slacks. Somehow, all this simple innocence put her more on edge. She found it impossible to believe he wasn't going to chop her up in there.

"Can we do it out here?" she called after him.

"I'm not drinking that shit," he called back. "Besides, my girls know the taste best."

"Girls?"

But he didn't answer. She was frozen on his porch while the warm light of his cozy home washed over her. A car's headlights rolled past her, and she wondered how this looked. Not that it mattered. She wasn't going to go into his house because this looked bad. She was trying to sell her breast milk while her enormous tits were leaking all over her sweatshirt. It was impossible to look good.

She waited for him to come back. She needed more information. She didn't even know his name for Christ's sake. She stared into his house and looked at some of the pictures hanging on the wall. He had a family and kids, but that didn't mean he wouldn't murder her. Fathers and husband have been murderers before. They had adorable curvy wives with strawberry-blonde hair and...

"Holy shit," Michelle whispered as she stepped into her dealer's house. She went past the huge staircase that went straight through the second floor to the third. There, in an adorable picture, was her dealer planting a kiss on Vicki Wasserman's cheek. She reached out and held it. It was Vicki. It had to be. Curvy. Sultry. Even as Michelle's dealer kissed Vicki in the picture, Vicki looked bored. She was above this. She was above all of them.

"The ex," the dealer said as he re-emerged. "And now the boss."

"The boss?" Michelle asked.

The dealer nodded and took another sip. "This was all her idea, though if you're FBI, I've never seen her before in my life." He smirked, and Michelle's blood went cold. "Just fucking with you. Jesus, she knows how to pick 'em. I mean, she has a type, you know?" He shrugged and took another sip of his coffee. "All of my girls start out the same. Awfully nervous for a cow."

"A cow?" Michelle shivered as tingles ran over her scalp.

"Come on." He put down his coffee and took the picture from Michelle's hand. He put it back on the wall. "Girls are in the barn." He held out his hands defensively. "Not my name for it, mind you. Vicki's, I guess. It just stuck. It's really quite nice."

"What is this place?" Michelle whispered, looking all around. There were other pictures of her dealer, but he was with a different woman and three boys. A first wife? A wife after Vicki? Was there life after Vicki? Michelle couldn't imagine it.

"Welcome to the Farm," Vicki's ex-husband said. "You can call me Hank."

"Hi, Hank," Michelle said. She extended a hand and offered it before she could think better of it. Hank took it and smiled. "I'm Michelle."

"Know that too," Hank said with a warm smile. "We keep track of all our buyers in case they get in a little too deep and we lose our investment."

"Investment?"

"Come on," he said with a tilt of his head. "We got customers upstairs. Best not to dawdle here. Let's go to the Barn."

"Uh, sure."

"Bring the milk. The girls will love it."

"Right."

Michelle followed him through the door and into what looked like an open kitchen crossed with an office. There was a secretary at a desk that offered Michelle something to drink, but she refused. There were men sitting on couches in a sitting nearby living room watching television, and some men were standing in the kitchen chatting.

"When are they going to be ready, Hank?" One of them asked as they walked through.

"We just gotta pre-game," Hank said. He pointed a thumb back at Michelle. "She's got the goods."

There was a general murmur of approval as Michelle walked through the kitchen and out the backdoor to a huge yard with a massive garage or... barn, sitting in the middle of it. There were two men in suits standing in front of the barn looking intimidating, but they nodded at Hank and opened the door for him.

"Evening, boys," he said. He turned around and beckoned Michelle to follow. She wanted to, but she didn't know what she was getting into. She didn't know if she could handle it. But she was already this far, and now her curiosity was piqued. What did this have to do with Vicki? Was the Milk a plan for Michelle the whole time? Did they drug Michelle knowing what it would do to her? Was her recent Milk production part of that too? Is that what she signed Bella up for?

Michelle followed, but the building wasn't really a barn at all. It was a hotel. Or apartment building. There were rows upon rows of doors. More men in suits stood at the end of each door and there were stairs that led up to a second floor, but that was it. There was a strange and welcoming scent coming from the second floor, like a scented candle of butter scotch or something nostalgic.

"See?" Hank said. "Harmless. Let's go upstairs and see the girls."

Hank went up to the second floor, and Michelle followed. She heard voices. Nine or so. All of them women. Talking. Laughing. The welcoming smell washed over Michelle and eased her nerves. They rose to a common room with several make-up tables and mirrors like a theater dressing room, clothes on racks like a fashion show, couches with snacks and drinks on them. It felt like she was in a green room for professional actors and dancers.

Except for the eight completely naked women laughing and talking as though this was a typical day.

Girls naked with impossibly huge and swollen tits

Tits leaking.

That was the smell.

It was the Milk.

But not her Milk.

"Hank!" said one of the girls, a curvy Latina woman with dark nipples dripping tiny pearls of white. "Can we get to work? My tits are killing me."

"Oh hello," said another with fiery red hair, pale skin, and freckles everywhere. Everywhere. Her voice was husky and made Michelle's skin tingle with delight. Or fear. Or desire. "A new girl, Hank?"

"Potentially," Hank said. He reached back to Michelle. "Give me the stuff." Michelle handed him the two bottles of milk. He raised it up and showed it to the girls. "First a taste test."

All the bubbly and welcoming nature of the girls vanished. All at once, it was as though he had dropped blood into shark-infested waters. They stopped doing their hair or makeup and came to him hungry, focused, and dangerous.

"I need to know if it's genuine stuff," Hank said. He opened one bottle, and a soft moan filled the room. Michelle felt she had stepped out of a theater and into a temple where some big breasted priestesses were about to lead her to worship.

Her body tingled at the idea.

"That's a good sign," Hank said.

"Give it to me," the Latina said. A small stream of milk was steadily leaking from her left breast. "Now."

The tingle spread all over Michelle's body.

"Yeah," said a blonde with perfect curly ringlets. "Let us taste it, Hank. We've been good."

"You cunts act like you can't get it whenever you want," said one woman with tan skin, tight muscles, and bright purple hair.

"But this is new," said another with bright blue hair. She looked the same as the other because...

"Twins," Michelle whispered.

The tingling centralized, swirling over her hard nipples and soaked pussy.

Hank handed the bottle to the Latina, and she took a small sip. She moaned as it hit her tongue, and then she took a longer sip. Then a gulp. The purple-haired girl reached for it, but the Latina was fast and kept it to herself.

"Share, bitch," the purple-haired girl said.

Other girls lunged for the bottle, and there was more fighting, more cussing. Hank tried to calm them down by offering the second bottle. They pounced on it, but he should have brought eight bottles if he was going to make them all happy. The milk ran down their lips and chins, down their necks. They moaned as they drank. They yanked it from each other, and it spilled to the floor. One girl started licking the floor, and Michelle's knees went soft. She knew that need. She knew that desperation. She thought she was the only one, but she wasn't. She was just like them.

She was one of Vicki's girls.

The thought made her head spin. This was going to be her new job. She knew it now. She knew what the Wassermans had been planning for her. She watched as one woman rubbed the milk against her breasts, moaning as she turned her skin milky white. Another was rubbing it between her legs and --

How had Michelle never thought of that before?

"I'd rather just have mine from the source," said the husky redhead. She slunk towards Michelle with her hips swaying back and forth. Michelle found herself nodding, but she didn't know why. She couldn't mean it. She wasn't going to take her top off and let this woman suck her nipple, was she? She wasn't going to --

Hank's watch beeped, and he looked down at it. "Showtime girls." He turned to Michelle. "Looks like the stuff is genuine. I'll give thirty bucks a bottle. Sound good?"

Michelle tried to focus on him, but the redhead was still easing her way closer. She licked her lips, and Michelle wanted to be the lips. She wanted to be the tongue. The tingles were everywhere, and she felt so alive, like she was ready to burst. The pressure between her legs, in her breasts, in her mind, was overwhelming. She was tired of holding it back. She wanted to flow not leak. Milk was running down her huge breasts and over her stomach. Even though she had her clothes on, she must have looked like one of the girls: a horny, moaning, leaking, big titted, desperate, stupid, cow.

Because she was one of Vicki's girls, even if she hadn't accepted it yet.

The redhead stood in front of Michelle, and Hank was still staring at them, waiting for his answer. "Sound good?" he said, but his voice was just the background. The girls were moaning and drinking Michelle's Milk. It came from her body, and they worshipped it. That meant they were worshipping her, right? It was a room filled with beautiful women worshipping her, and he wanted to pay her on top of it. She could get paid to feel this way.

She should get paid to feel this way.

"Yeah, sugar," the redhead said. She was close enough to kiss. Close enough to that Michelle could pinch her nipples and make the Milk flow. The smell already filled the room. The sweetest smell on earth: Milk. "Does it sound good?" she asked.

"Yeah," Michelle said breathlessly. It did sound good. "Yeah." She licked her lips and the redhead smirked, her lips twitching to one side. It was bitchy enough to make Michelle's knees soften. She wanted to sink to her knees and surrender, to give everything over to these girls. The lines of Milk were running down the redhead's pale skin to her pussy. It wouldn't be the first time Michelle was desperate enough for Milk that she sank to licking pussy.

"Good. Let me get the cash," Hank said. "Then I gotta get these girls to work. The guys are waiting, and they're all riled up. Gotta strike while the iron is hot, you know?"

"Um... yeah." Hank felt miles away. Michelle couldn't look away from the heat of the redhead. She had narrow green eyes and thin eyebrows. Her lips were pursed and thin. Her hair was bright orange fire, and her face was humorless and cold. She would have made a perfect Celtic queen. Or a witch. Yes. She was the villain in some fairytale Michelle wanted to live in.

"You thirsty, hun?" the redhead asked.

"Let her be, Tatiana," Hank said. "You got three customers waiting for you already. Go to your room."

"But look at her, Hank." Tatiana ran a hand over Michelle's face, caressing the older woman's cheek with the back of her hand. "She looks parched." Michelle leaned into the strokes of Tatiana's hand, whimpering softly.

"Yeah, I don't have time for an orgy, especially one no one's paying for."

Tatiana leaned in closer and whispered, "You know another girl's Milk is always so much better than your own."

Michelle nodded. She knew. Her Milk was fine. It satiated her maddening thirst, but it wasn't as good as the product she was buying before. That must have belonged to one of the girls here. Could it have been Tatiana's milk she'd been drinking this whole time? Was Tatiana the one that got her hooked on the stuff? That turned her into a stupid cow like this?

Hank clapped his hands, and the moaning in the background died down a bit. "Alright, ladies. Showtime. Glad to see you all warmed up. Let's make the boss some money." There was the sound of shuffling feet, but Tatiana didn't look away from Michelle, and while she stood in her gaze, Michelle couldn't move. "Brigitte, grab your bottle, hun. Yeah, and the pump too, Jesus."

"I gotta go," Tatiana said with a sad shrug. "But you look like you need to unwind."

Michelle nodded.

Tatiana laughed. It was cruel and music to Michelle's ears. Without hesitation, she leaned in and gave Michelle a sweet kiss on the lips. It was quick and easy, but Michelle had never kissed a woman before. The Wassermans would never stand for it, and honestly, Michelle had never thought of it before. She was Milk-sexual if anything. She didn't think she cared for the body parts.

But she cared for Tatiana's parts.

Her lips were delicate and sweet. A tiny slip of tongue over Michelle's lips and her Milk was flowing freely from her breasts. But Tatiana wasn't going to ignore that. She slipped her hand under Michelle's soaked sweatshirt and casually grabbed the older woman's swollen tits as though they were her own. Michelle arched her back and moaned as more milk squirted from her nipples, coating Tatiana's hands and ruining Michelle's clothing. The redhead laughed again, and Michelle loved it. She wanted to die listening to that sound.

But the ecstasy of Tatiana's touch didn't last. She pulled her hands away and showed them covered in milk. Then, in slow and languid strokes, she licked her hands clean. She stared at Michelle the whole time, never breaking eye contact as the rest of the girls filed out of the room and Hank filled Michelle's hands with sixty dollars.

"Come find me when you're ready. I'll give you one ride for free." She ran her eyes over Michelle's body with an arched eyebrow. "You look like a fun fuck," she said before walking away. She did it as easily as making a coffee date, and Michelle waited until Tatiana was downstairs before sinking to her knees and moaning. She was alone in the Barn, unsure where Hank was but she didn't care. Her hands were in her panties before she could stop herself, fingering her soaked pussy while her Milk kept flowing and --

"Hello cow," said a voice behind her that sent shivers over her body and froze her hand. Hell, it froze her Milk. "I hear you're about to be out of a job," Vicki said as she sank down and ran a hand over Michelle's cheek. "Looking for a new opportunity?"